Out of the Ruins
by tyl110
Summary: The story of the life of one Tacitus Brutus, mage. Covering his history, from birth to exile. Currently a toss-up between a coherent story and a series of one-shots.


Over a century ago, the Empire of Nerath ruled much of the known world, stretching from the cold reaches of the north to the fetid jungles and scorched deserts of the south, and even beyond. It brought peace, culture and trade, unifying many lands under its banner. For over a millennium, the Empire grew and thrived, a stabilizing force on the world. The common people lived peacefully, but a constant war on the borders of the Empire, as it fought to hold what it had gained, was ever present. Still, it was a stable time, where danger was distant and one could live as one wished. It didn't last forever. Under the surface, rot threatened to bring the edifice down. Eventually, it did.

Roughly one hundred years ago, the Empire collapsed, beset by barbarians on all sides, and crippled by bureaucracy and court politics. All that remained were splinters, remnants of the former greatness. Bereft of support and lacking focus and leadership, most of these new 'Successor States' collapsed, becoming nothing more than individual cities, alone in a hostile world. Some of the successors, however, remained functional, whether driven by a unifying culture, united behind a charismatic leader, or simply as the only possible reaction in a world where safety was suddenly a scarce resource. These new nations grew and prospered, many driven to regain the glory of the old empire, others only looking to avoid its fall. Still, one by one, these fell as well. Peacefully, as their leaders died; or violently, overcome by barbarians. After ninety years, only one remained. The nation of Arcon, located in the north.

Arcon was originally one of the outer marches of the Nerathian Empire, the final extent of their expansion. During their final expansionary period, the armies of Nerath warred viciously with the native tribes in the area, attempting to assimilate them and their land by force. The Arconian tribes, however, would not die easily. The great sorceries of the battlemages of Nerath were countered in kind by the might of the primally empowered tribal shamans. In the face of a vast enemy, the divisive tribes worked as one to counter the threat.

The war only lasted for six months, with heavy casualties on both sides. A great chieftain amongst the tribes, the seniormost leader remaining after the rest had been slain in battle, took the leader of the armies of Nerath to the negotiating table. Another fierce battle was fought, and by the end, a compromise had been hammered out. The people of the north would not join the empire. However, welded from a fractious group into a strong whole by the fires of war, the new Arconian Federation would ally itself to its larger southern neighbor. This was little more than three centuries ago. What was at first simply a method for the Nerathians to avoid losses and the Arconians to maintain their separate culture became something more. Over the next century, the two nations grew from separate, distrustful entities, into something more resembling brothers. A little less than two centuries ago, the Arconian Confederation peacefully and willingly joined the Nerath Empire. They ceased to be a separate nation, but still in some ways maintained their own ways of doing things. Separate, but together.

Some speculate that it is this internal separation which allowed the Arconians to survive the collapse of the Empire. While the more settled inner areas had no history of existence apart from the Empire, Arcon had the knowledge and infrastructure to survive without outside support. Terenius Sextus, the sixth of the line of leaders descended from the chieftain who made peace with Nerath and ruler of the Arcon province, became the de facto leader, and king, of the new nation of Arcon. The remnant empire, despite holding a mere fraction of the power and land of the old empire, had a correspondingly small border to defend.

Over the next 90 years, the kingdom flourished. Its military forces, though much reduced from their peak, had little trouble holding the reduced border, whether from barbarians, bandits, or the militaristic ambitions of the other successor states. The land was fertile, food and life plentiful. It was an island of peace, a beacon of hope and life in a world which had come apart at the seams. A remnant of Nerath's glory. It was a strong nation. And as with all strong nations, its fall came from within…

This is the story of that fall. The story of betrayal, loss and murder. The story of Tacitus Brutus.


End file.
